A break in the usual format today, cherished readers, as my focus is not my particular NTKOG (which, thought useful in a self-improvement slash frugality sense, is desperately unamusing), but one amusing debacle caused by it.
For the sake of posterity:
NTKOG #29: The kind of girl who manages to squeeze every last drop of sartorial juice out of her closet by diving into those piles of love-’em-but-don’t-wear-’em clothes and coming up with a cute outfit.
I am: the master of coming up with excuses to avoid wearing clothes that I love, but don’t have the right occasion for, are too vibrant in color, are too fancy, etc, etc.
I am not: affluent enough for all that excuse-making.
The Scene: Riding home from work on the T, wearing a truly fantastic pink silk blouse I bought last year and haven’t worn because I subsequently realize that, um, I’m not a porn-producer and therefore should maybe not be wearing metallic silk in broad daylight. Also, of note, a pair of new black slacks.
I’m sitting on a coveted single-seater in the stiflingly crowded train car. There’s an attract-ish guy in a green shirt standing near me, but I only briefly scan him, then get back to the book I’m enthralled with.
Suddenly, the T takes a sharp turn and I start to slide out of my seat, and shriek out a shrill, panicked “GAWP!” Checking out the situation, Green Shirt turns gallantly toward me, just as the car jerks again and I TUMBLE ALL THE WAY TO THE FLOOR, grabbing a faceful of his crotch on the way down.
Thank god my mouth was closed.
Unfortunately, the errant headbutt to the groin sends Green Shirt sprawling backwards too. He clutches at the woman beside him, and drags her down with him.
The car is suddenly, horrifyingly silent as our still-standing fellow riders contemplate the human domino chain. I am convulsing and apologizing, and try to gain purchase on the floor, but the car is so packed that the only things I see around me are other people’s legs. Ultimately it takes three people to help me — still convulsing, still apologizing — up. Fortunately, I do not drag any of them into my wide swath of destruction.
After Green Shirt and his own victim have been picked up and dusted off, I look back up at him from my seat and catch his eye.
“So nice meeting you!” I say. “But I guess next time I’ll buy you a drink before I dive straight for the crotch.”
He flashes a pained smile and I get off at Haymarket, even though it is many, many stops before my intended exist.
The Verdict: I think the lessons we can all take from this are three-fold: 1) When wearing new pants for the first time, assess their slipperiness before growing too cavalier about planting your feet on the T; 2) headbutting men in the groin is apparently not the way to get a first date in this town; 3) oh yeah, the whole “wearing clothes I always forget to wear” thing was a pretty good plan, but I need to stop buying friggin’ dresses. And should also maybe stock up on Ace Bandages.
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Well, I’d at least try to catch you if you threw yourself at me; it’s only polite ;) ! Also, being single, I’d try and treat it as an ice-breaker. Well, unless I was as embarrassed as you were.
Some guys just don’t have a crush fetish. Wait…what?
As for wearing bold clothing, I bought a salmon-colored polo for work, since we live in Florida and my wardrobe is still very midwestern. Generally, I can’t bear to wear it in public.
Sorry for the unplanned trip, but thanks for the story. Since you weren’t hurt, it brings a little humor to my otherwise dry, boring day.
hahaha WOW that cracks me up. The way you tell it makes it so much better, but that is effin hilarious.
Wow. Fantastic. I actually had a wipe out yesterday. Lesson learned: don’t try and run in heels, with hot tea, and a gigantic bag on 5 hours of sleep when you are only 4 minutes late for an appointment. It will end badly.
Oh no! This so sounds like something I could’ve done, but I’m glad you did it instead — no offense! I can much better enjoy the humor of it this way!